Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Like countless millions of others, I, too, participate in that annual
rite known as New Year’s Resolutions. As
someone grappling with fibromyalgia, a chronic condition involving chemical and
hormonal changes that result in ongoing pain, digestive issues, cognitive
impairments, weaker immunity, poor sleeping, low energy, and so on, as well as
not getting a definitive diagnosis until late this year, I had a mixed bag of
results in 2016. But I fervently believe the diagnosis drives home the need to
have resolutions for 2017, and to set them appropriately.

As we observe the end of one moment, the start of another awaits.

I’ve found it helpful to compose less dramatic resolutions and instead
use the declarations as a way to state my priorities and direction for the
year. More recently, I’ve also begun shaping them to allow for different
versions and degrees of success. In thinking about the upcoming year and
factoring in the impacts of fibromyalgia, I believe I see several general areas
around which to craft my personal 2017 goals: health, relationships,
creativity, growth, and figurative or literal “housecleaning”.

I know up front that this year won't allow for an off-the-grid family backpacking trip...

For me, health and my fibromyalgia diagnosis are completely intertwined
right now. But I have to acknowledge the improbability of going from notably
impaired daily functioning to returning to arduous backpacking excursions off
the grid, or multi-day mountain biking road trips. I think the reality of the
condition and treatments, and the newness of my diagnosis, require that my focus
is on an improved understanding of how to manage my condition. By breaking it
down into refining my nutritional regimen started in 2016, building on the limited
exercising I could muster late in the year, and experimenting with other
supports such as massage, meditation, and so on, I should be able to slog
through the daily grind and end the year with improved health and better knowledge
of how to manage it. This goal meets my criteria of layers of success and
flexibility, and underscores that the year is just truly about effort and
learning.

... But we can convert it into a goal of finding new ways to connect.

Fibromyalgia affected not just me but those around me for nearly the past three years. As such, I think a second general goal revolves around
learning my physical limits for the current ways I bond with friends and family.
It also seeks new ways to connect with loved ones. Again, this will require
experimenting. But the only way to discover new limits is to try and then
assess; the only way to develop new avenues for creating shared memories is to
risk a bad time in order to revel in a good experience. Whether we attempt some
grand international vacation or merely check out a museum we’ve never visited is
irrelevant. The priority is on partnering with those close to me to see how we can
continue sharing our lives.

Regularly playing this beautifully-restored guitar is one of my goals for 2017.

I long ago learned I need creative outlets for my emotional well-being,
and I chafe without those releases. The previous iteration of my life was
wonderfully integrated. But, my now-chronic condition led everything to unravel
and left me rudderless. This past year’s creative goal emphasized trying new
creative expressions on for size. For this upcoming year, I can build upon that
effort and see goals that my condition no longer disrupts. All of the
experiments I’m conducting create some fertile ground to return to writing; the
prior photography I’d toyed with helped me begin to see what is in front of me
in a new way, and building a more diverse library of photographs to accompany
my writing seems to be an easy and fulfilling add-on; resuming guitar playing
after years of near-dormancy caused some elbow pain this year, but I learned
ways to mitigate it. So, continuing to rediscover my love of music through some
focused efforts will allow me to have a collection of creative outlets that
cover the spectrum: written, visual, and auditory. In that sense, I don’t care
if one of them dead-ends, just that I give each an earnest shot. If so, I
believe I’ll end the year with something to show for the effort and to build
upon.

A goal that dovetails with my prior ones is to push myself to evolve:
to return to some of my prior activities in a way acknowledging my new
limitations, and to see if such versions of those activities are fulfilling. In
addition, I want to force myself to participate in completely new adventures
that from the beginning appear likely to work within my constraints. Much of my
reading on fibromyalgia has seemed to present a push-pull conflict between
returning to your old self so that the condition doesn’t “win” and finding new
ways to live positively so that you aren’t bound by your condition. I see my
focus this year as going down both avenues so that neither artificially
precludes the other’s chances for fulfillment. The reality is that we’re all
always morphing, and the real point of this goal is spending this year seeding
my life with varied opportunities, in the hopes that I yield some sort of
benefit this year and position myself for better harvests in future years.

Chipping away at projects should help avoid adding myself to the list of things needing repair.

Lastly, I have my tedious but necessary goal around “housecleaning”. No
one loves updating wills, working with financial planners, mucking out gutters,
cleaning out the attic, and the like. As I learned this past year, pushing hard
and ignoring my body’s warning signs can lead to physically painful setbacks. Yet,
these tasks are necessary evils for keeping affairs in order and avoiding more
stressful alternatives that might otherwise arise. Therefore, laying out my
priorities at the beginning of the year allows me to chip away at a necessary
but boring goal and to avoid distractions or disregard.

I think the combination of physical and emotional well-being, staying
connected with those around me, growing as a person, and tending to some loose
ends constitutes a well-rounded, achievable set of goals for the new year. It
addresses ways in which I experienced setbacks in preceding years due to my
condition. It builds upon efforts or learnings from my current goals, now winding
down. These days, I’m often easily frustrated or despairing, and sometimes pessimistic
about my future. But this goal-setting is also a self-managing way to see
positive outcomes. In their details, each goal also allows for degrees of
success, since all-or-nothing outcomes are needlessly punitive and would only
reinforce the frustrations I’m battling to overcome. I’ll commit these goals to paper – or at
least a virtual document on a laptop – and update them at least monthly. Doing so helps maintain my focus and positive outlook. It will
also help me acknowledge small successes along the way.

Like everyone else, I want to live vibrantly, with great moments
transitioning into wonderful memories shared with those whom I love very much.
Also like everyone else, I’ve experienced the curve balls that life eventually throws
at us all, each with our unique versions. So, for me, New Year’s resolutions
are not about unrealistic aspirations or about lamenting what might have been.
Rather, they’re about trying to attain the potential that my life offers, make
some impact to the world I live in, and do my best to enjoy the ride.

Monday, December 26, 2016

A year ago, I joined countless people in the annual rite of declaring
my new year’s resolutions. However, unlike a lot of people, I had to do so in
my characteristically overly-analytical way: I wrote them down, refined them, ensured
they were clear and achievable, and then identified sub-goals feeding into them
that were equally explicit and realistic. As a package of “resolutions”, I then
validated that they were sufficiently comprehensive. Having finished that nerdy
bout of planning, I committed to tracking progress over the year. As I now watch 2016 finish its wind-down and
begin thinking about 2017, it strikes me as important to review and reflect
upon a tumultuous twelve months.

My goals were varied but comprehensive. In the past, I’ve thrived
seeking out physically demanding adventures that create lasting memories with friends
and family, which in turn scratched my creative itch by blogging about those
events. At the start of the year, I believed I was enduring a series of
injuries from those adventures that disrupted my whole cycle of fulfillment. As
such, I sought to pursue healing. The “injuries” and my accumulating years left
me wanting to get my figurative and literal house more in order. I also aspired
to experiment with finding replacement creative outlets, and to seek alternate
ways to bond with those around me until we were again backpacking off the grid
or mountain biking all day in some other state. On the surface, my aspirations
for 2016 ended with a combination of failures and mild successes. But, geek
that I am, I updated that document religiously, and it now allows me to see my
results as more nuanced, and as a result I choose to see a lot of successes.

The struggle to heal my injuries led to doctors who gave up on me,
myopic specialists who wouldn’t look at me as a whole person or listen to me, an
inability to return to my old self, and extreme frustration. But, it also led
to finding a doctor who does listen, who kept working through possible diagnoses,
and who established a diagnosis of fibromyalgia. As a chronic condition that is
essentially established by ruling everything else out, that was not an easy
feat. In actuality, it was the end result of well over two years of physical
problems. This diagnosis will mean a lifetime of pain and impacts to digestion,
cognition, immunology, sleep, and energy, so it’s not a pleasant end result.
But my perseverance allows me to now know what I’m working with. This is no
small comfort, and is a contrast to a point a little over a year ago at which I
was struggling and looked despairingly at my partner, Sara, pleading futilely
for her to tell me what was wrong with me.

My new eating habits led to losing more weight than intended!

The unrelated efforts to shed weight I’d accumulated from not
exercising – but eating as if I still were – led me to an end result of a
nutrition plan that turns out to be great for people enduring fibromyalgia.
That has led me to take all of the desired weight off, along with another ten
pounds to boot. This has since become packaged with a nutritional supplement
regimen. An added benefit has been that as long as I stay on plan, I have no further
digestive issues. Prior to fibromyalgia, I’d been someone who could practically
eat gravel and wash it down with motor oil, with no ill effects. So, for all
the negative aspects of this diagnosis, I’ve found one area where I can feel as
if I returned to normal.

House projects never seem to go smoothly.But, these days I really need to pace myself.

When it came to getting my figurative and literal house more in order, I
can see a series of tasks that went undone. I can see rooms or a yard not as
pretty as they should be. I can see paperwork that a lawyer never drew up.
Instead, I choose to see someone who was dealing with a lot of challenges on a
daily basis, yet still managed to chip away at everything. There are dangerous
trees now removed, garage doors that work, shrubs that were transplanted, rooms
that were painted, and finances put into the hands of a professional to help
provide security for me and my family. Even though I didn’t finish all I sought
to do, I had to persevere, such as squeezing in appointments amidst medical
visits. I had to fight off the fatigue and allow for several days to complete paperwork
I might have previously banged out in one late night. I had to learn to pace
myself, such as after I literally almost collapsed from pushing myself painting
all day without breaks. Previously, I would have expected to accomplish twice as
much in half the time. But this year, the work I was able to complete took far
more effort, planning, and perseverance. That hard work has already produced
some results, helped me learn more about how I need to now manage myself, and
provides a springboard for my 2017 focus.

Lastly, my adventures and bonding had nowhere near the volume and
results I’d sought. I was never hurtling through the woods on a mountain bike,
whooping excitedly alongside Sara. I never summited another mountain with my
daughters. I never sat in a kayak, listening to the water lapping again it or
the shore. Lacking those adventures, I
lost my creative outlet as well. But the limitations that fibromyalgia foisted
upon me left me desperate to find some way to search for some sort of
alternatives to still have new experiences with loved ones, as it also left me
chafing at the lack of a creative outlet.

My girls rode and drove ATV's for the first time, loving the adventures with family!

In order to not waste the year, experiments led me to help set up a wonderful
family reunion filled with horses, ATVs, jamming on a porch with family members,
daughters meeting far-away cousins, and countless laughs. I spent time at the
beach instead of the woods, and my off-road beach permit allowed my girls an
opportunity to host birthday weekends on Cape Cod that they could brag about. My
family saw a wonderful play from the second row of an antique playhouse. I
welcomed the holiday season with over a dozen good friends on Martha’s
Vineyard. Furthermore, not all good moments were the big ones. I was driving
home one day and pulled over, admiring a sun descending behind the trees,
casting long shadows as a stone wall and dirt road stretched out towards it, and
briefly lost myself in photographing that moment. Another time I paused in my
errands and stand next to a salt marsh, capturing a sunset that was both scenic
and a harbinger of the oncoming autumn. Those moments weren’t just visually
serene but also mentally peaceful. Additionally, I rediscovered playing music,
and sat in front of Sara on Christmas Eve, sharing a vulnerable moment as I
played her some songs I’ve written but not shared.

Again, the year is now done and I can’t change the past. So, I can view
the year as full of setbacks, lost opportunities, and wasted time. Conversely,
I can reflect and see much effort and perseverance, dogged determination and
courage. I can choose to see the progress towards managing my condition, the
planning that better sets me and my family up for financial stability in coming
years, the house that has a few more projects crossed off the never-ending
list, the adventures that materialized, the relationships that deepened, and the
experimenting with creativity that were fulfilling. I can choose to see failure
or triumph. I can choose to feel frustration or pride.

As I turn my focus to 2017, I think it is important to choose the
editorial that points at successes, not failures. Equally, I believe that I
should leverage this as momentum for the upcoming year, to build upon these hard-won
victories, and to continue converting limitations into opportunities. If I
continue to work at setting realistic but aspirational goals towards becoming
the best me I can be, I believe 2017 can be a year filled with promise and
potential just waiting to be discovered.

The end of one moment is the start of another, so let's see what 2017 has in store.

Sunday, December 18, 2016

Looking back, it seems so innocuous: I’ve put a lot of wear and tear on
my feet through my outdoor adventures, and I aggravated a prior plantar
fasciitis injury. Two years later, I found myself stunned as I absorbed the
reality that I had a condition that would affect me and impede me for the rest
of my life.

A diagnosis of a chronic condition can be traumatic. No, not one like
high cholesterol that requires swallowing a statin and then diving back into
the steak tips. But a big one. In my case, fibromyalgia: brain function and
chemical changes lead to essentially a permanent fight-or-flight response that
often results in ongoing pain, digestive issues, cognitive impairments, weaker
immunity, poor sleeping, low energy, and the list goes on. But whether it’s
this or others that could range from multiple sclerosis to bipolar disorder,
from ankylosing spondylitis to alcoholism, from epilepsy to PTSD, there is one
very stark reality that accompanies the acceptance of that diagnosis: the need
to deconstruct your life in order to reassemble it in a way that addresses your new limitations.

Drawing my blood turned out to be the easy part.

Conditions such as these aren’t cured with a pill, a pat on the head,
and going on your merry way. Instead, they inflict both obvious and subtle
problems long after you’ve left the doctor’s office. The obvious struggles
include experimenting to discover the medicines and treatment regimens that
provide clinical relief to get you through the worst moments and to stabilize
you. That requires time, side effects, setbacks, failed attempts, crushed
hopes, and a diminished quality of life.Sometimes, that seems to me to be the easy part.

The harder part is accepting that you can’t live in the way you’re
accustomed. For me, I’d already spent years working to be the healthiest and
best me that I could be. I’d established a lifestyle and life that I loved. I
was happy, and bouncing between living in the moment and dreaming of my next
immersive adventure. But now that’s all gone. The only thing I know at the moment
is that I can’t really live that way anymore; living in the moment is currently
a fantasy.I need to be cognizant of my
condition – all the time: I need to carefully start the day off. I need to religiously
take my prescription and supplements. I need to eat militantly. I need to
exercise. But I need to not exercise certain ways. I’m stressed by my need to
avoid stress whenever possible. After an exhausting day, I then need to sleep
delicately to try to make it through the night.The list goes on and on, and when I deviate I pay the price.

But, in addition to all of those efforts, I also need to now examine my prior lifestyle and
find all the ways I’d now exacerbate my condition. I need to recognize how
certain fulfilling activities will cause flare-ups so that I can now avoid them. I
need to identify how certain tendencies got me this far in life but now become liabilities.
I need to assess my personality, behaviors, and attitudes and hone in on the
pieces that aren’t unhealthy under other circumstances yet now create risks for
me. I need to analyze my relationships and determine in partnership with those
friends and family how I need to modify them in order for them to remain mutually
nurturing and fulfilling.

As I've learned from time on the trail, it helps to break up arduous efforts into smaller pieces.

That deconstruction is painful and hard. Having slogged through it once before for other reasons, I know what lies ahead. It requires an introspection
that most people don’t engage in. It forces you to analyze not just how you’ve
lived, but to understand why. It inevitably drags some skeletons out of the
closet, because no one lives perfectly, and everyone has some blind spots. It forces you so far beyond your
comfort zone that you couldn’t find it with binoculars. It leaves you
questioning your perception of yourself, your world, and your place in it. That dissection and rebuilding also takes
time; time that you feel you can’t afford because you’re already chafing at the
wasted time it took just to achieve a clear diagnosis. For me, I now look back
at a couple of lost years. Then I look ahead to a couple more years to attain a
new rhythm to life.As a 45 year-old smack
dab in “middle aged” territory, I’m very conscious that our time here is finite
and I loathe wasted days, let alone months or years. But, this is my
inescapable reality.

But to not face up to the task at hand is a worse fate. To merely wallow
onward substitutes a ore unappealing situation than grinding out this arduous self-appraisal.
It saves the mental discomfort and avoids trials and errors. But instead, it does nothing to move me forward. In fact, it adds to the
physical pain and mental stress by refusing to cultivate my ability to self-manage
and maximize whatever potential I have.

I'm not sure about finding a great reward at the end of this,
but I'll tryto stay positive.

I didn’t ask for a life-altering diagnosis to endure for all
my remaining days; I shouldn’t be forced to break down and reassemble my life.
Nor do those around me deserve to become collateral damage from my new
limitations. Unfortunately, these things are not up for debate. The only choice
is where I go from here. So I will doggedly labor through that deconstruction, focusing
on one brick at a time in the foundation of that new life, and believe that
better days lie ahead.

Saturday, December 10, 2016

Fear. It can
drive people, and lately it has been more of a part of my own life than I’m
accustomed to.

After enduring a couple
years of physical problems that doctors couldn’t understand or fix, I wound up
with a diagnosis of fibromyalgia; basically, a chronic pain condition in which
your nerves are constantly over-reacting and the corresponding chemical changes
in your brain lead to other challenges, such as digestive issues, lowered
immunity, impeded thinking, and trouble sleeping. I’m just beginning to get my
mind around it, let alone to understand how best to manage it.

Last year's holiday stroll on Nantucket was one of the most fun group trips I've ever taken.

It should sound like a
blast: being invited to join a bunch of other couples we’re friends with on a
long weekend on Martha’s Vineyard for a Christmas Stroll. We rented out a whole
bed & breakfast right on the water, and events will be going on all weekend
long. It seems to also offer a nice diversion from my challenges, right? Yet,
I’m a little more anxious as the time draws closer, and now am on the eve of
our departure with so many thoughts racing through my partially-fogged brain.

What if my feet can’t
hold up and I’m in agony but nowhere close to our hotel? What if my back seizes
up while watching a parade or street performers? How will my stomach handle it
if I can’t bring my refrigerated probiotic that’s helped so much? How much of a
price will I pay from cheating more on my militant diet than I’ve done any week
in the last nine months? Will I hit an energy wall and need to quit the
festivities and go back to my room? Will I drag Sara down with me, ruining her
weekend?

Either you conquer fear or it conquers you.

Thoughts such as these
can go on and on. If it’s a first thought upon awakening, I can’t stop it. But
I also know it’s not best to dwell on it. A particular challenge right now is
finding the balancing act between ruminating and assessing the situation and
appropriately self-managing: while some meals will be unhealthy, I can eat
compliant breakfasts, and with a room fridge, I can bring hard boiled eggs. I
can awaken early to ease into the day and enjoy a sunrise. I can hit the gym in
the morning to get some endorphins flowing and loosen me up a bit if I'm going
to be active. I can bring some healthy snacks on our adventures to nibble
compliant, nutritional food if my energy wanes. Since we’re morphing into various
groups and offering lunch and dinner as meet-up opportunities, I can integrate
a little down time here and there, or get a coffee or tea to get off my feet
briefly. I can hang with the group but not be among the last ones going to bed
sometime after midnight.

A late-November view of Martha's Vineyard from Cape Cod.

The basic reality won’t
change: I’ll be on that island off of Cape Cod for about 72 hours. That time
will pass. I will be with Sara and some close friends. There are only a couple
of (admittedly big) things up for debate. The first is how I manage myself: do
I push myself too hard, or do I push myself to make the most of the adventure
while accepting my limits? Do I seek out activities I can handle and advocate
for myself, or do I quietly go along with the crowd and white-knuckle my way
along unless or until I have a flare-up? The second is what editorial I choose
to attach to events: if the weekend is great, have I learned the benefits of
acknowledging my limits or of calculatedly pushing myself? Or was I lucky? If
the weekend devolves into a struggle, did I see the penalty of not
acknowledging limits or not speaking up? Or was the whole thing a stupid idea
to begin with?

For now, the piece I
believe I can control is articulating and then pursuing my goals: I want to
have the best time that my body allows, and to recognize my challenges only to
the extent that I can then minimize them by my resulting plans. So I’ll pack
food accordingly, scout out potential plans and see were the bigger dangers
are, and identify my "safety valves" if I need them. I’ll then try to
assume that I’m going to have a great time with great friends, and back off to
allow the weekend to unfold in its own organic way. To put it more simply, my
goal is perhaps no different than everyone else's: to immerse myself in a
great adventure this weekend that evolves into a great memory afterwards.

Sunday, December 4, 2016

I’ve
hit that point in life at which I don’t enjoy celebrating my birthday. I’ve
also hit that point when most people suggest it’s not that bad, because the
alternative is death. Somehow, I don’t find that to be a heartwarming way to
embrace my inevitable decline…

When
I turned 45 this week, it wasn’t fun. In fact, it was probably a fitting
middle-aged birthday: I was forced to work late. My kids wished me a happy
birthday, but with the obligatory tone that suggests they’d be much more excited
if it were their own event. Sara was out of town because of her own career
demands. Life wore me out that day and left me in bed well before ten o’clock.
Wow… eesh.

This year, I felt like I was barely hanging on.Maybe next year will be different.

It
doesn’t take much reflection to conclude that 44 was a rough year. It provided
many doctor’s visits, a lot of uncertainty and anxiety, and culminated with a
diagnosis of fibromyalgia, which brings with it a lifelong pain management
situation. For someone who happily lives a pretty physical life, this sucks.
What’s to celebrate? Blowing out the birthday candle, it’s easy to wish for
something different

, or a return to the
life I was enjoying.

Where will life take me next?

Like
New Year’s, a birthday is a chance to take stock of the last year and to ponder
what the next year may hold, or to articulate the wishes for the next
year. I don’t know what the year ahead
may have in store, but I know that whatever happens, it will unfold at its own
pace. Maybe my pain is exacerbated; maybe I have the first day in well over a
year in which the pain doesn’t forcibly alter that day’s trajectory. Maybe I
can again indulge in some favorite activities; maybe I remain “on the shelf”.
Maybe I find some new activities to love; maybe I find myself taking on new
ways of challenging myself and being horrified to discover that trying my hand
at being a street performer of interpretive dance was an extremely poor
self-assessment of my capabilities… OK, maybe I should start smaller.

The
point is, life doesn’t allow me to hit a pause button. The band keeps playing,
the stone keeps rolling, the wheel keeps turning. It’s fair to need to grieve
for a loss, to allow yourself the emotions that come with an involuntary life change –
particularly one painfully imposed upon you. But it doesn’t change your
reality.

The paths in life are rarely easy. Nevertheless, you've gotta choose one eventually.

As I
begin accumulating some days as a 45-year-old, my more immediate focus is to
not waste the time. So, my priority is about allowing myself to process the emotions of a rough
situation. But, it’s also to figure out how to maximize my remaining time and
capabilities that this stage of my life affords me. I need to pointedly push myself out of my comfort zone and experiment, but not force a lifestyle
that isn’t authentic and genuinely fulfilling. While not an easy task, it
nevertheless is the task at hand. I believe that whatever your lot in life, the
best aspiration and focus is to try to maximize the potential of your situation.

My
last year was one spent amidst uncertainty, negativity, repeated setbacks, and
stuck in a painful limbo. Given where I landed and the clarity I received, my
wish for my next year is to begin climbing out of that hole; to begin to figure
out how to be passionately engaged with a life and with relationships that
fulfill me, and to allow me to somehow positively impact the lives of those
around me.

As a new year of life dawns, it's my wish to live it fully and to squeeze the most out of it.

Thursday, November 24, 2016

After
well over two years of mounting physical problems, I finally bottomed out but
emerged with a diagnosis: fibromyalgia. It’s referred to as chronic pain, but
it’s much more: essentially, your body is stuck in a “fight-or-flight”
response. Yes, this means nerves are hyper-reactive. But it also means there
are changes to your chemical and hormonal levels, how certain parts of your
brain functions, and this can have impacts to pain, energy, digestion, immune
system, and sleep, which in turn can create all kinds of impacts. So… crap.

I’ve
spent the last two to three years as a bit of a physical train wreck, and spent
the last few weeks as an emotional one. I have lived physically and loved it.
But, in some way, my life will need to change. Maybe much of what I did can be
done again, maybe there’s some new passion to replace it with, but after some
time to rage and grieve, a few nuggets of clarity emerge.

The outdoors have given me some great family moments.

Hiking,
mountain biking, skiing, and all my time outdoors is a way of being connected
with Sara, my girls, the world around me, and with myself. At its core, those
are my goals and these activities were how I reached those goals. I’ll never
stop being someone who loves the outdoors, who craves adventure (hey, I guess I’ve
got an excuse for being an adrenaline junkie), who strives to connect deeply
with loved ones. But now my challenge becomes figuring out how that will look.

Whatever the specifics may be, the goal remains to live vibrantly.

Sometimes the "cure" seemsworse than the problem.

As I
begin getting educated on this stuff, there’s a bit of a contradiction that I
feel: I’m supposed to stop living how I’ve lived but I’m supposed to work to
get back as much of what I lost as I can. I know an expert would say it’s more
nuanced than that, but it’s how I understand the therapeutic goals as I flail
early on in this process.

When
I started blogging about my hikes, my goal was not to delve into the topography
or detailed explanation of the trail. For me, it was to chronicle how my life
and the lives of those around me were unfolding. My stated goal was to hike the
67 New England high summits. But my real goal was to use that writing as a way
to focus myself on what was unfolding for and around me over a longer period of
time. I was interested to look back 67 months later to see what storyline would
emerge. I got halfway through, on track, before coming to a crashing halt. This
diagnosis may suck, but if it’s my reality, then the only remaining question is
where I go from here.

What the... ?!?! I thought I knew how to navigate life. But now I'm in uncharted territory...

So,
now I see me repurposing this writing: to explore where this new life take me;
to find what new adventures await; to see how I continue to bond. I feared that
I’d need to reinvent myself. But with more reflection, I think I just need to figure
out how I can continue to work at being my best self. I’ll undoubtedly have
some trial and error, maybe with some epic fails. I’ll presumably continue to
find nature to be soul-nurturing. For all the times I push my daughters out of
their comfort zones, it’ll be time for me to model the way, which may be good
for some memories to wince or laugh at. And, I’ll likely look back somewhere
down the road and find I’ve taken on some surprising new ways of living that I’d
never have expected.

If
you indulge me the hiking analogy, I’m standing at the trailhead. I can’t see
far down the trail and know this will be a challenge. But, as with past hikes, I
start by putting one foot in front of another (albeit painfully). Eventually, it’s
euphoric to stand on the summit and feel triumphant, proud of the effort, proud
of the accomplishment, proud of who I am, and of who I’m with.